You Can't Kill the Crazy
by TheHiddenCard
Summary: Just how mentally ill must a person be to be ruled incompetent for execution in the United States? Being profoundly mentally ill is not enough. You have to be deemed legally "insane."


**You Can't Kill The Crazy**

The ceiling was cracked.

A sort of zigzag pattern that made it look like someone had tried to punch a hole in the material. Maybe it had been the guy that was here before him. From the top bunk, you could easily reach the ceiling if you had long arms.

Alfred lifted his fist and placed it in the hole carefully. Right here someone had been close to a meltdown and in his frustration punched a hole in the ceiling. That's what places like this, did to people like him. He closed his eyes. Let his fist drop a little and then pushed it back up against the hole, trying to imagine to be the person that was here before him.

He imagined a bulky guy, with tattoos up and down his arms, but with tears in his eyes. Which really isn't the stereotype of a big bulky guy with tattoos. But then again, he was really not the stereotype to be in prison either.

"Alfred!"

He opened his eyes. They were brilliantly blue, but right now they were clouded with a sort of darkness that made it impossible to spot any emotions in his gaze. It seemed so long ago that he had been a bright 16 year old, who played football with his friends and laughed. Now he was no age really. He didn't felt like a kid, and he wasn't an adult.

"It's time," the voice told him, and he stayed put where he was, staring at the ceiling still. "After this there is nothing I can do for you. It's your last chance to redeem yourself Alfred. I really wish you luck."

Alfred was quiet for a moment. Then he sighed, looking at his hand. "That's kind of sad, don't you think?"

"Pardon?"

"That I need luck."

"Alfred. That attitude is what put you in this situation. If you want any chance-"

"If I want any chance of surviving the death penalty… I should say what they want to hear. I know that. But I don't want to lie. I don't want to have to lie, and might be killed as a liar anyway. Then rather go as an honest person, Arthur!"

There was a moment of silence from the other man, and finally Alfred turned his head to look at him. Arthur was wearing his normal formal suit, but his normally professional green eyes were lowered, looking at the ground, and one hand was holding around the bars to his cell. Alfred couldn't help but smile a little at the expression he was wearing. He had always thought his short blonde lawyer could make the cutest expressions, too bad that he was married and lived in London, and Alfred was his client... a convict from America.

Then Arthur Kirkland raised his gaze again, staring at him with an almost angry look in his eyes. "How did a man like you end here? You don't belong here."

His smile fell, and he watched Arthur for a moment. "That's just life."

"I won't let them put an innocent man in jail. I decided that a long time ago."

"Arthur.."

"No, I won't let it..."

"_Open __cell-box 1A_!"

Arthur turned his head to see two guards walk down the hall toward their cell and his eyes flung back to Alfred. "Just tell the whole truth, Alfred! Make them believe you!" he demanded, and the blonde sent him a lazy smile, before sitting up and jumped down from his bunk bed.

There was a _swoosh_ when the automatic door was unlocked, and Alfred obediently let the guards cuff him. That was the worst part of it. The cuffs made him feel like an animal, but sometimes they would take them off if he didn't ask for it.

As he walked by, Arthur stared at him. "Just answer the questions as honest as you can…" he said, and walked after him as the guards led Alfred down the hall. The blonde boy looked over at Arthur with a sigh and just nodded indifferently. That made his blonde lawyer narrows his eyes. "I'll see you inside."

Alfred pulled on the muscles around his mouth, but unsure that it really came out as a smile.

It was a strange thing to know that the outcome of this very day would determine if he was going to _die_ or not. He had already been found guilty in court and he had been sentenced to death, but Arthur. His brilliant lawyer from London just refused to let this happen.

But this was not the way. Arthur had claimed that Alfred was mentally unstable, and needed to be checked by professionals. _That_, was exactly what they were going to discuss today. It was were the hallway ended.

…

The room was very much like so many interrogation rooms he had been in before. Four walls. Four chairs. One table. One lamp. One tape-recorded. Apparently these devices, along with two "experts" and his lawyer Arthur Kirkland, were enough to give him the final judgment.

He sat down. He really wished they would allow him to not wear the cuffs. They made him feel so ... not human, but apparently they were deemed necessary, as the guards left with the key.

Alfred stared at the floor, just as the door closed and the guards had left him alone in there. He closed his eyes, and sighed deeply. Then the door opened again, but he didn't look up.

The first person that walked in seemed like a man, in the way his shoes sounded against the floor, but it could also be a woman with very large feet. The second one was indeed a woman though, Alfred could hear her high heels click toward the surface with long proud strides.

The last one was Arthur. He could have recognized his present anywhere. He carried himself in a way that others didn't. More confident and sure of himself, as if he was the one that walked into the room with all the answers. Arthur took a seat next to him, while the two others sat in front of him by the other side of the table.

"Prisoner 3418…" came the light voice of one of the people in front of him. So it _was _a girl. "… The purpose of this assessment is to evaluate your mental competency, to be able to carry out your execution…" Alfred's eyes didn't move one inch. "…Now, the jury has already decided your guilt, the court have sentenced you to die for your crime and the specifics of your case have no bearing here. We are only here to consider your mental state and whether or not you're _capable_ of carrying out the consequences of your crime," she ended and started scrambling with some papers on her desk.

The corner of Alfred's lip twitched up a little.

The man by her side spoke now. "Do you comprehend?" Alfred didn't answer.

Arthur hurried to cut in. "To put it simple, Alfred. If you are insane you are allowed to live, if not... you will carry out your sentence."

Alfred closed his eyes briefly and then opened them again, still looking down. "Yes. I understand."

There were more scrambles with paper and soon the male one spoke again. "Alfred. Do you understand why you're here?"

"I did something wrong?"

"Is that a question?"

He sighed and folded his hands in his lab. "No…"

"Then you _know_ you did something wrong."

Finally he lifted his eyes, his eyes glazed over, and his mouth in a stern line. "People believe I did. And I disagree with that claim."

There were a lot of scribbles. Alfred couldn't help but look them over in those few seconds. The woman was a slender girl, she was pretty, but was wearing way too much make-up. She was probably run by her career, and afraid that her beauty was starting to fade, so she felt a need to cover herself up with material products... very likely she had no family, she just didn't seem like the type, and she had that kind of.. stern edge to her.

The man was older, and looked very professional, but also very lonely, the kind that never really got what he wanted in life. Maybe he really did have a wife, maybe divorced.

"Do you know why you're here?" was the next question.

He tilted his head. "Didn't we just go over that."

"I don't know. Do _you_ think we did?"

Alfred couldn't help but roll his eyes, and could practically feel Arthur stare him down for being unprofessional. But please. _That_ psychology _crap? _Where you always answer a question with a question, really, who wouldn't see through that nowadays?

"I am here… to be judged."

"Do you feel judged, Alfred?"

He took a deep inhale, but answered anyway with as little attitude as he could. "I have been judged all my life, this is just the first time I can die from checking the wrong box on the test."

"Do you feel like life is a test?"

He raised an eyebrow. "If you think all ... philosophical, I suppose. But no. Life is not a test. Because a test has right answers, and in this world the answers are only right from what a certain amount of people have decided on… does that answer your question?"

"How do you feel about that?"

"About what?"

"Being judged."

"I don't know. How do you think I feel about that?" Alfred retorted, clenching his fists under the table.

"I think only you know how you feel about that."

Alfred stared at him for a moment, then he closed his eyes and let his head roll to the side. "I feel... I feel _angry._ Confused, scared. I feel like nobody has the right to decide for me. It doesn't…" he licked his lips, his eyes flickering for a moment. "…seem fair. It doesn't seem fair that you…" He made a hand-movement with his shackled hands toward them. "Two. Complete. _Strangers_! Have the right to decide for me. I feel mad about that. Unfortunately I just ... don't feel the one thing that can save my life… I don't feel crazy."

He could see Arthur tense from the corner of his eye, and lowered his gaze again. He had messed up, he knew. But he just couldn't die as a liar.

"But… by it's very definition," Arthur cut in. "A crazy person wouldn't know if they were crazy. Actually it might be a sign that his menta-"

"Arthur, please," Alfred mumbled, and Arthur looked at him with a frustrated gaze. "I am not crazy." The male and female exchanged glances and scribbled something down on their papers.

"What are you scared about, Alfred?" the female asked.

"What?"

"You mentioned earlier that you also feel ... scared."

He laughed humorlessly. "I'm 17 and going to die. Of course I'm scared. I'm _not_ crazy, but the rules around me _are_."

"Why is that?" The man asked.

"Society have decided that if a man commits a certain degree of a crime he will be sentenced to death," he said with a nod of his head. "But that crime will be lessened if he was too crazy to know what he was doing. If I kill a man, I die. But if I run down the street in my underwear with a shotgun, killing everyone around and claim that Aliens made me do it…" he let out a breathy chuckle. "… oh well, then I'm just too crazy to kill."

"Alfred," Arthur said. "You will have to keep professional here."

Alfred looked over at Arthur. "That is not _fair_! THAT IS NOT FAIR!"

"Alfred, calm down," Arthur hissed out. Alfred jerked his head away.

"Don't tell me to calm down, Arthur," he said, and looked down at the floor. "This is insane. I didn't do it. I didn't. I wouldn't lie. Arthur, you know I didn't do it..." he sucked in a breath and let his head drop into his shackled hands. "That man… I was set up…" he whispered.

"Alfred Jones, we are not here to discuss the details of your case. The court have decided that based on your actions you are not permitted to be treated as a minor," the woman said, and her professional voice somehow annoyed him unbelievably.

"But I _am_ a minor. It's not fair."

"Why-"

"_Stop_! Stop the, 'always answer with a question' talk, I know about it, I have read all the books. You make me feel like I'm a mad man," he whispered and looked back up, tears had gathered in his blue eyes. He knew that he wasn't insane, and because of that he was going to die. He was so scared that he might throw-up.

"Do you feel insane at this moment?" the woman asked and her voice seemed to have softened a little, which just made him sob and hide his face in his hands.

"Alfred, you have to be strong now. You know that, right?" Arthur said and put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. It comforted him a little and he lifted his face with a few nods.

"Yes."

The interrogators looked at each other and wrote something else down.

"Okay, Alfred, we just have one last question," the woman said and closed her folder, leaning over the table and looked at him with a professional gaze. "I would like to know who Arthur is."

"W-what?" Alfred asked and looked at her in confusion. Arthur looked bewildered too. He looked at Alfred and then back at her.

"Pardon?"

She folded her hand on the table. "The person you call 'Arthur' that you have been talking to doing this whole interview. Who is he?"

Alfred looked at her, now with a, 'are you kidding me?' look. Did she really think he was so insane that he wouldn't even know the people around him? Did he appear that twisted? He sobbed and looked away for a moment, taking a deep breath, and then he looked back at her with a more stern gaze again.

"Arthur Kirkland is my _lawyer_. He flew in from London last week, when my first lawyer thought I was a lost case. He has been talking with me and prepared me for this interview today," he said calmly and gestured to Arthur with his head.

The woman watched him for a moment in silence. Then the man seemed to loose patience and spoke. "Okay. I think that was all we needed." He stood up, but she stayed put.

"I think you are just trying to trick us, Alfred," she stated simply, and Alfred stared at her stunned. "There is no Arthur, and you know it. You're just trying to run from the consequences of what you did, and I am not going to let that happen," she closed her folder.

Alfred's eyes were wide with shock now. He didn't answer. He didn't feel like he needed to. He had no idea how the woman would judge his glance, and unfortunately she didn't seem to tell him. She uncrossed her legs and stood up, following her partner out with clicks of her heels.

Arthur sighed deeply and sat back in his chair. Alfred's head flung around and stared at him. "What did they mean?" he asked. Arthur looked at him with an almost sad smile.

"I tried… I really tried…"

"What? You tried what?"

Arthur smiled a little and tilted his head. "To make you realize… that you really _are_ insane, Alfred. It could have saved your life. After all… it doesn't matter what you do, as long as you're crazy."

Alfred stared at him, but Arthur merely smiled back sadly.

* * *

First fic. Please leave a review. It would make my day. :3

Thanks for reading.


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